


The Games We Play

by KylaraIngress



Category: The Lone Gunmen (TV), The X-Files
Genre: Halloween, Holidays, M/M, POV First Person, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3214781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KylaraIngress/pseuds/KylaraIngress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Halloween, Byers gives Frohike the ultimate 'treat'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Games We Play

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2001, and publishing as part of "Throwback Thursdays" in reaction to the news of the potential return of _The X-Files_.
> 
> I'm usually a first-time junkie. But, after telling someone that I don't come up with mid-relationship stories very well, I came up with not one, not two, but THREE different plot bunnies for already established relationships. Guess that proves the adage to never tempt fate . . . .
> 
> Fro asks that this be dedicated to J.D. Rush – after all, had she not gotten kidnapped by LGM plot bunnies, the boyz probably would've never been invited over to MY house to play. Additional warning for cheesy poetry.

I opened the door, ready to just kick off my shoes, lie down, and let today just be a bad memory.

It had been a LONG day; Mulder had called us up with his usual spook hunt, and with Langly working on that exposé and Byers forced to actually get a paying job, it was left to little ol' me to follow him, hoping that THIS Halloween, Mulder would actually have a realistic lead for our newspaper. I knew it was a long shot (hell, I guess it was no worse than Langly's idea that Bill Gates was behind the Y2K scare to sell more computers), but I had to. It cut me to the deep that Byers had to take what we called a GOOD (Get-Out-Of-Debt) job, relegating the newspaper to "second job" status. Even more so since we had become . . . intimate with each other.

Yeah, I know. It sounds pretty convoluted, me and Byers. And no one was more surprised at that concept than ME (well, I guess Langly was pretty surprised when he walked in on me givin' Byers a blow job on the layout table). But if there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's to not question when good things happen to me.

And John Byers was the best damn thing to happen to me . . . ever.

We had taken things pretty slow; after all, with the three of us cooped up in the basement like we were, both Byers and myself realized it was a good chance our relationship stemmed out of 'convenience', like prison or Navy ships, basically happening because we were THERE.

As I shrugged out of my coat, I was brought back to the here and now as I saw a note tacked onto the back of the closet.

_"Now, weary traveler, rest your head;  
_ _Find a key to your dearest wish where you've been fed."_

I recognized Byers's scrawl, and gave an amused grin at the thought of him bein' playful.

I grabbed the note, suddenly realizing my day was just getting ready to become worthy of being a VERY good memory. After all, if John didn't let his 'real' job at that insurance agency get him down, I very well couldn't. And he obviously had a VERY good day today.

I contemplated the note and realized it must mean my next clue was in the kitchen somewhere. I hung up my jacket, closed the door, and headed toward the next clue.

No obvious notes as I walked through the kitchen doorway, but I had a feeling this was all part of the game. I re-read the note, and inspiration struck.

I opened up the cabinet where my favorite munchy lived, and found my next clue taped to the top of the honey-roasted peanuts.

_"Grab the whipped cream goo,  
_ _and go where you go for what ails you."_

After I winced at the bad rhyme, I picked up on the implied offer. Whipped cream? This could DEFINITELY be a night worth remembering.

I put down the can of peanuts (but not before snagging a few) and went over to the fridge. I laughed as I saw a brand new can of Redi-Whip sitting on the top shelf, a small orange bow tied around it. He was definitely being playful tonight.

I thought back over the note, and guessed that the bathroom was my next stop. I grabbed the whipped cream and let my curiosity lead me (among a certain organ that was MORE than interested in finding out what Byers was up to).

And chuckled again as I saw the next note tacked onto the back of the medicine cabinet.

_"Take off your clothes and stay awhile;  
_ _Don't worry about leaving them there all in a pile._

_Go to your room when you're done  
_ _Picking up the newest items to add to our fun."_

Jeez – and he was a paid WRITER? I thought over this latest edict, not quite sure what was going on. While being playful was all well and good, I didn't exactly enjoy pacing around HQ nekkid. Despite Byers constantly reassuring me, I knew I wasn't exactly Brad Pitt, if you get my drift. And what if Langly came home during my stroll? He'd probably die laughing, if I didn't kill him first.

But I realized at least THAT wasn't something to worry about; I remembered he always had a big role playing game on Halloween (they did a special 'live action' one, running around an open field, battling each other with foam swords and shit); that meant he wouldn't be home until tomorrow.

But I was still hesitant – what ever was Byers UP to?

I soon found out, as I rooted in the cabinet to find his other 'gifts' – a bottle of cherry flavored lube and a box of condoms, both wrapped up in black bows (huh – orange and black; he was really getting into the 'spirit' of the season).

Uh . . . huh . . . .

Like I said, we had been taking it slow, and the furthest we had gone with each other was doin' a 69 (and even THAT seemed to be a bit far for Byers; he's not the most . . . sexually adventurous man, as much as I like him). These 'gifts' obviously implied a MUCH higher level of intimacy than ever before.

Now, I know the stereotype of men; sex is sex, and we're not gonna sit around, asking if everything is okay. But that's exactly what it is – a stereotype. Both Byers and I were too good of friends to NOT worry whether the other person was up to the same level – and this playfulness of his was obviously his way of letting me know he was ready for that next step.

But was I?

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? I found myself taking off my clothes, wondering if he'd even out the 'gifts' with a fourth – after all, this was BYERS we were talkin' about. After grabbing the three packages, I headed into my room.

And about came on the spot as I walked in to view John laying on my bed, completely undressed except for a tiny orange bow right around his cock.

"Hi, lover," he purred playfully as he saw my form enter the room. I swear, the only reason I didn't drop the stuff in my hands was the thought of whipped cream mixed with lube – on MY floor.

"J . . . J . . . J . . . John?" I stuttered, wondering if maybe Mulder WAS right and aliens HAD been taking over human beings. This certainly wasn't the John Byers *I* was used to!

"Happy Halloween, Mel," he said, writing his body against the bed in THE most sensual way I had ever seen OR imagined. "Trick or Treat?"

"Uh . . . ."

"Trick or Treat?" he asked again, and brought up his hand to beckon me with a finger, slowly.

"Uh, if this is a trick . . ." I started to say, taking the step or two necessary to get to the bed's edge.

"Guess again," he interrupted me, and pulled me down into a kiss. Oh, SWEET Jesus! That was the first thing I found I liked about this new aspect of our relationship – I could sit and kiss this man all day long! A little bit of tongue, a whole lotta energy and effort, his hand played with the back of my neck while his lips assaulted mine. All I could do was stand there, not wanting to drop his 'gifts' to reciprocate. But I COULD open my mouth to receive him, and I could taste him properly. I felt my knees getting weak from the kiss, and I was afraid I'd end up on the floor in a puddle.

Just in time, he broke away, leaving me panting in reaction.

"What in the HELL is goin' ON?" I couldn't help but blurt out – as always, opening my mouth to insert my foot.

His face reflected a bit of chagrin at my words, but then he smiled shyly. "I had a really good day," he explained. "I wanted to celebrate."

"Must've been a damn good day," I couldn't help but joke, bringing up my hands carrying the packages.

"I got a bonus," he explained the purchases away with a wave of his hand. "And during lunch, I realized something."

"Uh-huh?"

"Give me my 'treat'," he requested, "and maybe I'll tell you my epiphany."

I just gave him a grin of my own, and sat the three items on my nightstand. "What 'treat' do you want first?"

"Use your own discretion," he sighed, running his hand up my arm, making the hairs stand out. I gave a slight shiver of anticipation, and decided on my course of action.

Grabbing the can of Redi-Whip, I sprayed a healthy amount into one hand, and after placing it back down on the nightstand, I climbed up on the bed and straddled the naked form laying wantonly there – for me. I gave a playful wolf whistle as a result, and then started to lather up his chest with the white foam – almost as if I was preparing him for a shave.

He gave a bit of a yelp at the first application, obviously forgetting that whipped cream was COLD, and I gave a grin as I saw his nipples begin to peak as a result. His cock twitched in reaction to my ministrations, breaking the little ribbon of the bow, and I plucked it with a whipped-cream free hand and tossed it aside. Going back to my task, it was only a few more minutes before his chest was fairly well covered. Realizing he must be cold, I stood up.

"What . . . ."

"Just turning up the heat a bit, babe," I said, going over to the thermostat as I said it. "Don't want you catchin' cold." On my way back, I stopped at my stereo, turning it to a light jazz station. By the time I got back to his body, the cream was starting to melt, and I decided it was time to clean that part of him up.

Running my tongue down his neck, I started licking him – sucking a little as I reached each of his nipples. John threw his head back, moaning in abandon, and his hands were gripped tightly in the covers of the bed as I continued moving my mouth across his chest.

As the rest of the whipped cream began to disappear, I rose up and gave him a kiss – letting him taste the sweetness on my breath. His moans reverberated through his throat as he nearly devoured my lips as a result of my actions, and I just held onto the ride as his tongue raped my mouth.

Once again breaking away for air, I caught my breath and acknowledged, "It must've been one HELL of a day."

"You have no idea," he coyly said, and brought me back down for another kiss.

A few more seconds of that, and I was ready for the next stage of his night of 'treats'. I looked at him, letting him see my eyes glance over to the bottle of lube and box of condoms, asking without asking for the next step.

He pushed me off him, confusing me for a minute, but I had my answer as he brought his knees up to his chest, letting me know he was more than ready. I wiped my hands on the edge of the bedspread, getting the remaining whipped cream that was still on my hands off.

I stood, opening both box and bottle, and brought out a condom. Part of me wondered if it was needed; after all, I wasn't exactly Hugh Hefner. But I also realized this wasn't a matter of trust more than he wanted to make sure *I* was safe. (Not like HE had much more sex than I had, but he probably figured better safe than sorry.)

I ripped the shiny silver packet open, and heard a whimper from my bedmate as I slowly slipped the condom on. I turned back, and he was watching me, eyes slit in desire, chest heaving as he was trying to calm his breathing.

"God, Mel, you turn me on," he said, looking me over top to bottom.

I could feel the flush of pleasure and doubt rise in me, but I knew it would only spoil the moment if I tried to argue his viewpoint. Besides, if the flagpole that stood in place of his cock was any kind of indication, he wasn't lying: he was SERIOUSLY turned on.

I grabbed the bottle of lube, and climbed back onto my bed. It had been a long time since I had done this (probably that time in college was the last 'real' time I had a homosexual encounter), and I KNEW this was a first for Byers (hell, *I* was a first for Byers). So, I wanted to make sure his wish of an evening of 'treats' was as good as we both heard it could be.

Squeezing a little bit of the cherry-flavored gel on my fingers, I had one hand rub down his chest, his thighs, even his feet, all in a way to get him relaxed and ready; all the while, the other hand was teasing his hole, not quite entering yet, but getting the lube nice and happy along the edges.

John's head was thrown back again, and he was stammering something unintelligible, and I gave a sly chuckle at the result. That just made him arch his back, letting my finger slip in a little into his crack. I felt him tense up a bit, as expected, and my other hand continued soothing his body.

I removed my hands to put another batch of lube on my fingers, and this time, the single digit slipped in with less resistance. I stopped a bit, double-checking that John was all right; his eyes were scrunched, his mouth open and panting, his hands tightly clasped to his legs as if his life depended on it.

"You okay up there?" I had to ask.

"Oh, sweet GOD, Mel!" he shouted. "Don't you DARE STOP!"

I took that as a positive reaction, and let my finger do an imitation of the ol' 'in-and-out' waltz. As soon as I pushed past that tight opening, Byers gave a yelp and I felt him tense once again. But after a second or two, he loosened back up, and I was at it again.

Sooner than I expected, the one finger was slippin' in and out pretty easily, so I carefully added a second. After all, 'little Mel' was a chubby little guy, just like the bigger version. I felt him stretching, and I was doin' all I could to not come on the spot at the thought of bein' in there myself. Ironic, ain't it?

My other hand hadn't stopped rubbing his thighs and chest, and I reached up a little in order to give both nipples a slight tweak, letting him realize that sex wasn't just down below. I teased him a bit more (definitely teased him, if the language comin' out of his mouth was any clue), and slowly added a third finger – just to be sure.

"Oh, my GOD!" came the strangled cry of the man beneath me as the third digit entered the netherworld. "Oh, GOD, Mel, just . . . just . . . OH, FUCKIN' GOD!"

I pulled out my fingers, taking that as a request to get onto the 'main event', and dashed another batch of lube onto my fingers. Realizing that was all I needed, I tossed the bottle to the floor beside the bed. After slicking my wick, I took his legs in each of my arms, spread him a bit wider, and prepared myself for entry.

As I got ready, I took another look at the man who had asked for this ultimate 'treat' from me. His eyes were closed now, beads of sweat were skimming down his face, pooling into his beard. His nipples were sharp enough to cut diamonds, his smooth skin also gleaming with sweat. His cock was limp, but only due to the lack of blood flow to that part of the body. I reached down, and gave him a quick suck, letting the long, thin organ enter my mouth like a popsicle.

"Oh, GOD, Frohike – just FUCK ME!" came the cry from those sweet lips.

I gave another chuckle, and couldn't help but joke, "Trick or Treat?"

"Treat, OH GOD, treat!" came the strangled gasp.

"You betcha," I replied, and pushed forward.

Oh, MAN, I forgot how good this felt. My cock was enclosed in the warmest, tightest space it had felt in a LONG time. The pressure was almost unbearable, and all I wanted to do was ride John like a bull. But at his cry, I had to make sure everything was okay. As soon as I could catch my breath, I rattled, "John?"

And again, he said, "Don't you DARE stop!"

Well, I didn't.

I felt my hips starting to piston in reaction, doing what my fingers had been only moments before. And each time I got to the end thrust, John would moan in reaction. Oh, MAN, his reactions just made me want to do it again, and again, and AGAIN. His head was thrashing again, his hands had glued themselves to the bed covers, and his legs had moved to my shoulders, laying like dead weights. I wanted it all, I wanted everything he could give me, and I wanted this to last forever.

Thrust, moan, pant; thrust, moan, pant. Time ceased to exist as we danced this dance, and each plunge took us to a higher level of pleasure. I couldn't stand it; no one had given me this amount of satisfaction in my LIFE, and to have Byers be at the core of it made me realize that whatever our relationship was, after this moment we couldn't say it was just based on convenience.

My thoughts took a hike, though, as one hand slowly detached itself from the covers and ran up and down my thigh, caressing me, and I felt myself falling over into orgasm.

My gratifying shout seemed to trigger his own release, as I felt his streaks of come erupt onto my chest.

Then, _thump, thump_ went his legs as they fell off my shoulders onto the bed, and I gradually left that warm, tight heaven with a regretful sigh.

"Oh . . . my . . . GOD," came the strangled voice of Byers as I stood and threw away the condom. "I heard it was good, but . . . but . . . but . . . ."

"But?" I couldn't help but ask, turning back to the bed.

"Exactly," he giggled, grabbing my ass and pulling me on top of him for a long lazy kiss. "Oh, God, Mel, thank you."

"Maybe I should be thanking YOU," I couldn't help but laugh back. "What brought this on, John?"

He leaned over me and grabbed the box of Kleenex I kept on my end table, and snuggled up against me as he started cleaning up the mess that was on both our chests. "I told you, I had an epiphany."

I reached around for the trashcan, bringing it up on the bed so he could throw away the remains, and waited for him to finish.

When it appeared he was actually waiting for ME to talk, I asked, "And this epiphany was . . .?"

He waited for the trashcan to go back to where it was, and gave me his answer in another long lazy kiss. When he was done taking my breath away, he sighed. "Promise you won't freak?"

"Who, me?" I asked with a sham pained look on my face.

"Yeah, you. It was a pretty serious one, as you can imagine," he said, indicating the events that just took place.

I felt my heart flutter at this; maybe this was his way of telling me he wanted to go back to being just friends. One last 'gift' before we went back to just palling around, watchin' TV together, investigating stories together, but that was it.

I admit, I would've gone back like that . . . before this 'treat' of his. But I also had a slight epiphany; I didn't want to, COULDN'T go back to being 'just friends' after this. In fact, if I had my choice, I would want to continue exploring this aspect of our relationship in a matter of returned 'treats'. But I had enough of his games; whatever it was, he was gonna have to say it.

"I promise I'll try not to freak," I said, knowing that was the most honest response I could give him.

He snuggled up, and murmured something into my ear that I couldn't quite catch.

"What was that?" I asked, turning to look at him.

"I said I think I'm in love with you," he whispered, his face showing how he feared I would react to this confession.

And the smile that broke out on my face MUST'VE reassured him, for he cracked a grin himself.

"I guess I can't freak," I said, giving him a peck on the nose. "You see, I think the feeling's mutual."

His grin turned into a full-fledged smile, and he sighed in glee. "That's good," he said, wrapping an arm around mine. "So what do we do now?"

I couldn't help it. I turned to him, and with a leer, I responded, "Trick or Treat?" and tossed him the can of whipped cream.

Let me tell you – Halloween was never quite the same after that.

**Fini –** **10/21/01**

 


End file.
